Serpentine Rewrite
by Steeltalon
Summary: Harry's relatives never raised him. In fact, they abandoned him the day they found him on their doorstep. It's going to be a very different Harry Potter than Albus Dumbledore expects who shows up at Hogwarts ten years later... - In the process of being rewritten -
1. I

Harry's relatives never raised him. In fact, they abandoned him the day they found him on their doorstep. It's going to be a very different Harry Potter than Albus Dumbledore expects who shows up at Hogwarts ten years later...

Warnings: **1.**This is a slash fanfiction. It won't come until MUCH later on though – remember that Harry is just turning eleven when the story opens up.

**2.**Dark Harry.

**3.** There will probably be character deaths. Please, do not flame me if your favorite character dies – this warning is here for a reason.

**4. **Language.

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter…that would be fan-dabby-babulous.

OoOoO

**I.**

The night seemed a perfectly ordinary one. Clouds hid the moon and stars from view – the only light came from the streetlights and the occasional car that swept by and was gone in moments. The windows of the houses on the narrow street were dark, their occupants peacefully sleeping, unaware of the world around them. Children had been tucked safely into bed by loving parents some hours earlier.

It was safe to say that the child had never had real parents.

He crept along in the shadow of a much taller figure; the older man, for his size, moved swiftly and silently, his boots making barely any noise. The child had been raised on the streets, and taught to distrust all strangers. He had grown up knowing one person as his protector and family – a young man, who couldn't be older than his early thirties, and looked to be in his late twenties. The man had never revealed much about himself, except that he'd grown up much the same as the child – on the streets, stealing to survive. It seemed he had chosen to live his life that way - an existence frowned upon by members of "proper" society.

"Keep up, kid. You want food? We have to be quicker than this, or someone will see." The man was several paces ahead, and his voice startled the smaller male out of his thoughts. He kept his voice low for fear of waking anyone or attracting attention, as it was the dead of night. They tried not to be out and about too much in the daytime. People might see their faces.

The boy quickened his step. He hated to disappoint the person he saw as his big brother. They had to eat to live, and they had to steal to eat; they didn't dare try to steal anyone's money, though the child had never asked why. He was the lookout, when his brother decided they needed to raid a store in the quiet and stillness of the night. His brother was the one who did the stealing, as he was far more experienced – and was the only one of the two who owned gloves, so as not to get caught.

Now, the boy stood motionless in the shadows, watching while his brother broke into the store they'd picked out with as little forced entry as possible. Sometimes they were very lucky - sometimes the owners forgot to lock up the store, and those were the times when the boy and his brother ate well for a while before they had to steal some more. Most of the time though, they had to break in and had minutes at best to get in, grab what they needed, and get out. They didn't eat so well those times, and they'd have to move on to a new place and steal again within a few days at best. At worst, they had to ration the food and water they took – they only ever stole water because anything else slowed them down too much – so that it lasted more than just a day. Sometimes the older of the two went without food, to make sure the boy didn't.

If the boy saw the police coming, he had to whistle as loud as he could, to make sure his brother heard it. It had taken him months to get it right, and sometimes they only just got away, thanks to his brother's speed and sharp ears and eyes. Really, people shouldn't go rushing around with flashing lights and loud, wailing sirens if they wanted to catch criminals.

The boy had just one weapon - a dagger, given to him by his brother when he was younger. "Don't ever use this against another person," the man had told him seriously, looking deep into his eyes, "unless you have absolutely no other choice. If you use it in any other way except self defense, one day it will hurt you in return. But always keep it close...you never know when you might have need of it."

He never had used the dagger, but it was strapped to his waist, within easy reach. Sometimes he kept a hand over the dagger's hilt, fingers just barely brushing the metal to remind himself that it was there.

Familiar flashing red and blue lights caught his attention - they were still far down the street, but getting closer. He let out a loud, sharp whistle and turned to see his brother darting from the store, the bag they used on raids like this clutched in one long-fingered hand. Not a word was spoken - they'd done this so many times in past years that there was no need to speak. They slipped into a side alley as swiftly and silently as a pair of cats would, their steps light, their breathing controlled.

The cops arrived just seconds later, but were still too late to catch the burglars.

OoOoO

"Hey, kid..."

The boy looked up from caressing the blade of his dagger, slightly surprised that his brother was awake so early the morning after a raid. Normally, the man stayed where he slept until well after noon – though whether he was actually sleeping or just brooding, the boy could never tell. The older male knelt beside him, gripping his chin gently so he could look the younger full in the face. "I know I've never asked you this before now...but do you remember anything before the night I found you?"

Oh. So that was it...the teen probably wanted to know if he remembered his name or something...

"No..." the boy answered, being completely honest. "Nothing."

The man sighed and ran a hand through his wild chestnut-brown hair. "Well, that makes things a bit more difficult to understand, then...because this" - he held up an envelope, showing it to the boy - "was brought here by an owl, of all the unusual things, and it's addressed to a Mr. Harry Potter."

The boy blinked. "I don't know a Harry Potter," he said, bewildered. "Do you? Is it an old friend of yours?"

The young man actually snorted. "I've never known anyone named Harry," he replied. He stood and tapped the creamy envelope against his hip, the motion a thoughtful one. "Hmm...well, anyway, I've decided I'm going to give you a name. I can't go around calling you 'boy' for the rest of your life." He tilted his head and studied the child thoughtfully. "Trouble is I don't know what a good name for you would be...I hadn't thought about it."

The boy stared back, curious. "Well…I heard someone call someone else 'Shithead' really loudly once. Is that a name?"

There was a long, awkward pause, before the child's big brother burst out laughing. He laughed long and hard, making the boy wonder what he'd said that was so funny. When he'd calmed to the point where he could speak again, the brown-haired man said between chuckles, "No, child, that's not a name…and you mustn't say that again, until you're a bit older at least."

The boy pouted. "You say that about a lot of things I hear."

"Because they're not things a child should repeat." The older man affectionately flicked the child's forehead with a finger, right over a jagged scar that had been there since he found the kid on the street. "I think I've got it, by the way…how do you like Zephyr?"

"Zephyr," the boy echoed, tasting the name on his tongue. It felt….right. He nodded. "I like it…so, what do I call you?" the newly-named Zephyr asked.

His older brother looked away, multiple emotions briefly crossing his expression before he replied, "Living alone, one doesn't need a name. But a long time ago...the people I knew called me Evan. Now, shall we read this letter? I think it deserves a reply."

With sure fingers, Evan opened the envelope and pulled out several sheets of paper.

"'Dear Mr. Potter,'" Evan read, with a swift glance at Zephyr. "'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'" He paused. "How...very interesting..." After a few seconds of scanning, he went on, "'Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.'"

Evan set the letter down and turned his head to stare at Zephyr curiously. "What do you make of that?"

"I think whoever sent this is playing a well-thought-out joke on us," Zephyr muttered. "Really, an owl? Witchcraft? Are these people mad?"

Evan chuckled. "You're probably right." He ruffled Zephyr's unruly black hair in a somewhat playful gesture. "Well, let's burn this and see if we can hit that new clothing store later tonight. You've hit another growth spurt, shrimp, and those clothes obviously don't fit anymore."

OoOoO

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was nearly giddy with relief. It was a very simple reason as to why; Harry Potter had finally been found.

The boy had been missing for ten years. He hadn't been seen in all that time, and now they'd finally pinpointed his location. He was living with an older man, who had apparently taken care of him since he was abandoned by the Dursleys. But that was beside the point. Even though the signal letter had given had been to alert the school that it had been burned, they had still found the boy. All that was left was to get him away from whoever he was with.

Life on the streets was no life for the Boy-Who-Lived, after all.

Damn the Dursleys...they were supposed to take care of Harry until he was old enough to come to school! Instead they'd dumped him as far from their home as they dared and left him to die.

Except…the boy _hadn't_ died. And that was very, very good news indeed.

OoOoO

"Ready, Zephyr?" Evan breathed next to the raven-haired boy's ear.

"Go. I know the drill," Zephyr murmured back.

And then Evan was gone, trying doors and windows to see if even one had been left unchecked and open. Zephyr peered out from between the branches of the bush they'd been hidden behind. Everything was going as they had planned, until...

A shout from behind had Zephyr whirling around, hand flying to his dagger. He immediately froze. Two men, wearing some sort of robes, had grabbed Evan.

"Run away, Zephyr! Don't come here, just go!" The teen yelled, as Zephyr took a step toward him. "_Go_!" There was a shout of a word the child didn't recognize, a flash of almost painfully bright red light, and then Evan went limp and silent.

Terrified, Zephyr looked back once before he sprinted away. He wove back and forth, darting into alleyways and staying out of the streetlights as much as possible to confuse his pursuers, who he could hear yelling after him.

Then there was a loud noise, like a car backfiring, and suddenly someone was right in front of him. He skidded to a halt to avoid a collision. How had that happened? He turned to run, and saw more of the robed people coming up behind him – he realized he was trapped. The tall figure pointed a long, thin piece of wood at him. There was another flash of red light and then...darkness.

OoOoO

"_Ennervate_. Harry, can you hear me?"

Zephyr groaned and turned his head to the side as he started to come to. He could hear...someone...talking. But who were they speaking to? They kept calling the name…Harry. The name sounded familiar, but his head felt fuzzy, like static on a TV had invaded his mind…he couldn't connect one idea to another.

_Evan...where is he? Where's my brother?_ He forced his eyes open halfway and brought up a hand to rub his eyes. He'd been...knocked out, it seemed. That was why his thinking was so slow – he'd been knocked out before, when he knocked something off of a shelf and it had nailed him in the head. He needed a minute to come to his senses.

Before he could try to sit up and figure out where he was, his vision was filled with the smiling face of an extremely old man. Alarmed, he let old reflexes take over and twisted to the side to get his personal space back...and fell. He didn't know what he'd been lying on, or what he fell off of...all he knew was that he landed on an extremely hard surface. He coughed, the unexpected impact knocking the air from his lungs.

"Now, now, dear boy, there's no cause for alarm."

"No cause for alarm?!" Zephyr repeated, fear making his voice higher than he meant for it to come out. He scrambled to his feet, automatically feeling for his dagger. He felt intense relief when he found it hadn't been taken from him, and wrapped his fingers around the hilt. "Where did you take him? What did you do to Evan?!"

"Calm down, Harry, so I can explain," the old man replied calmly. "I am Albus Dumbledore. I-"

"Like I give a rat's ass who you are!" Zephyr shouted, his terror and anger combining to force some of the words Evan had told him not to say out of his mouth. Oops. "Where are we, and where is my brother?!" He unsheathed the dagger and pointed his blade at the old man. He didn't want to use it, but he would if he didn't get answers soon.

Dumbledore's blue eyes widened slightly at the appearance of the weapon. "We are in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, Harry. Your friend has been taken to my office for questioning."

Zephyr curled his lip, sheathing the dagger. He definitely wasn't happy about being taken away from Evan. It made him feel vulnerable, and alone. "Why did you bring us here?" he snapped. "And why do you keep calling me Harry? My name is _Zephyr_."

"That's not your name, my dear boy." Zephyr liked this man less and less every passing second. "Your real name is Harry Potter. To make a very long story short, you are the Boy-Who-Lived, the savior of the wizarding world. You've been missing for quite a while, my boy, and we're very glad to find you've been safe."

"My name is Zephyr," Zephyr repeated stubbornly. He narrowed his green eyes at Dumbledore. "I don't know who this Boy-Who-Didn't-Die or whatever is, and of _course_ I'm safe. My brother takes good care of me – and I want him _here_, and then I want to go _home_."

So saying, he sat down on what he now recognized as a bed and ignored the man until Dumbledore gave up trying to talk to him and left.

OoOoO

Albus barely refrained from slamming the doors shut when he left the hospital wing. Harry clearly distrusted him, and had been brainwashed into thinking his name was.

Well...this called for some child's influence. When the school year started, he would have to see if Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger could persuade the child to see things his way.


	2. II

**II.**

_This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever been dragged into,_ Evan thought, scowling as he prowled through the hallways, heading where he'd been told to go if he wanted to see his brother. He'd been questioned very closely about how he'd found Zephyr, about his background, why a man of his age was living on the street and stealing to survive. The whole interrogation had been conducted by a very short, very excitable man. All in all, it had been irritating to say the least. As he paused outside the doors, judging whether or not this was the place, he tacked on, _And that's considering that Sverre and Amanda used to drag me into some pretty stupid situations…_

Ignoring the familiar stab of raw pain at the thought of her, Evan entered what he'd been told was the "hospital wing", and barely got a moment to look around before he was tackled to the floor by a blur of ragged clothes and black hair. Without his brain's permission, his arms wrapped around the small figure protectively as he felt the trembling racking his little brother. "Shh, shh, shh..." he found himself whispering, running his fingers through the soft hair. "I'm here. We're alright, Zephyr. We're alright."

"I don't like this place!" Zephyr cried out, his words muffled as he buried his face in his brother's shirt. "I want to go home!"

Evan couldn't answer; he didn't have the right words. He wanted to go home as well, but they had no idea where they were. He didn't know how to get home from here.

He didn't have the heart to tell Zephyr that right now. In the end all he murmured was, "I understand."

He closed his eyes and cradled the warm body for a few moments more before he released Zephyr and sat up. He got to his feet and offered the raven-haired kid his hand. "Come on, kiddo. It's no good, just sitting here. Might as well figure out exactly _where_ we are. You've still got your dagger?"

"Always," Zephyr replied, taking the hand and pulling himself up.

"Good. Listen to me, Zephyr..." Evan knelt so he could look the younger boy in the eye. More than once he'd been struck by their vibrant green color, thinking how odd it was to have eyes that bright. They seemed to pierce straight through you...Shaking off that train of thought, Evan made sure he had Zephyr's attention before he went on, "I'm going to start teaching you self-defense. You're small and quick, and that's good for running away, but your size can be used against you. One day, you're going to get into trouble, and I might not be around to help you. So you need to be able to fight...both with the dagger, and without it."

Zephyr's jaw dropped. "B-but...but you told me never to use it to hurt – "

Evan cupped his little brother's chin in one hand, gently silencing him. "Little one...learn the distinction between _wanting_ to hurt others with that blade, and _needing_to, to save your own life."

"Sounds the same to me..."

The brown-haired boy chuckled. "I suppose it would, to someone who's never been in a street fight. Look..." He raised one hand and brushed back his rather long bangs, to reveal a long, thin scar above his left eyebrow. "I got this..." He took one of Zephyr's hands in his free one, and brushed the smaller boy's fingers along the scar. "...about two years before I found you. I was nineteen at the time."

He allowed Zephyr to touch the scar again. "The man I got into a quarrel with was carrying a small knife in his pocket. Had I not reacted quickly and thrown myself to the sidewalk, I probably would've had my throat slit."

Zephyr's fingers trembled over the mark. The cut must have been deep, and bled a lot...to leave such a lasting scar. "But he still got you. You were still hurt."

"Yes. That's why I taught myself self-defense...why my senses are so sharp, why my reflexes are so quick. I need to teach _you_ what I taught myself all those years ago. I can only pray I will do a good job, because one day I won't be here to watch out for you, and you'll need to be able to look after yourself." He gently tugged the younger boy into a hug, wondering when exactly Zephyr had wormed his way into his heart.

Zephyr decided to nuzzle his face into his brother's neck rather than think too closely about the older male's words.

"How did you get on the streets, Evan?" Zephyr asked after a few minutes of silence. They hadn't moved from their position, Evan kneeling in front of the small boy, Zephyr's head resting in the crook of his big brother's neck, both in a comfortable embrace. _It's surprising,_ Evan thought, _how long it took for me to see how much this kid means to me. But now I see I'd fight to the death to keep him safe. He's..._ he swallowed hard, trying to suppress his emotions so he wouldn't worry Zephyr. _He's the little brother I never had the chance to have._

"Well...I don't really remember, it's been so long...but I'm pretty sure my parents got separated from me and didn't notice I was missing until it was too late. By then I'd run all over the place, and finally found somewhere to hide, thinking they'd find me." Evan felt the thin arms tighten, and couldn't help a small smile that was gone almost as soon as it was there.

"Obviously..." he went on, "they never found me, but the police did, and I was raised in an orphanage until I was seventeen years old. When I'd had enough of that place, I grabbed the few things I had and ran away. A few months later, I got that scar, and two years after that, I found you." He shrugged. "That's really it."

They both jumped as the door of the hospital wing creaked open, and two children ran in, followed by an elderly man. Evan didn't recognize him, but Zephyr obviously did, because he stiffened in the older man's arms. "Don't let him take me, Evan," the young boy whimpered.

Evan narrowed his eyes suspiciously, slowly getting to his feet and taking up a defensive position, with one foot planted in front of his brother and his hands fisted loosely at his sides.

"Relax, my dear boy," the old man said. "I'm sorry we had to use force to get you here, but you are safe now." He seemed to be talking to Zephyr alone. Evan moved further to the side, so he was blocking this man's view of the raven-haired child completely. Chocolate brown eyes glared into twinkling blue as Evan crossed his arms over his chest and began to tap one foot slowly.

"Ah...you must be the boy's...guardian. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and - "

"I couldn't care less who you are," Evan growled out, narrowing his eyes still further. "You could be the king of the world and I'd still spit on your grave right now. I want to know _where_ we are, and I want to know why you brought us here." He didn't like this old man. He was the picture of a grandfatherly figure, ready to help his students with any problem they might have.

But...that's all it was; an illusion. There was something shadowy just beneath the surface, something that sent red flags up in Evan's mind. Something dark, manipulative, cunning. He didn't want Zephyr around this kind of person. Hell, _he_ didn't want to be around this kind of person. He had been before.

It didn't end well for anyone.

Dumbledore's eyes widened innocently, giving off the image of a genuinely surprised expression. _His expressions...his words...they're all lies. All deceptions. Even if he answers, I can't trust him,_ Evan's instincts warned him. He'd been relying on his instincts since he was seventeen. They'd always led him right, even in bad situations, like the one that had led to the scar on his forehead and countless others like it. It would be a bad idea to start ignoring them now.

"Why, this is where Harry belongs!" Dumbledore replied. "This is where he will be schooled until he is seventeen years of age, with other children like him. You need not worry that he will be unsafe."

"Hmm..." Evan hummed lightly, giving away none of his suspicions. "And what if...I said he wasn't to be taught here?" he questioned mildly, mindful of the two other children who were clearly excited yet wary of going near him.

"I think you'll find it is in Harry's best interests to learn to control his magic," Dumbledore responded.

"_Zephyr_ has never been around children his age," Evan said coldly, making sure Dumbledore got the point by locking eyes with the Headmaster – he didn't want his brother here. "He has been with me since I found him. He has never known what it is to play with other children, and no doubt, he won't have the time if he chooses to stay with me rather than study here."

With a small shock of insight, Evan realized that he was giving Zephyr a warning of what life would be like with him, and the choice to leave him or to stay here, even if Dumbledore wouldn't have. He looked down into those brilliant green eyes, taking in the childish facial features. It would pain him to be away from Zephyr, but the child had a choice – to stay here, or go with Evan. This small child was the only family he knew, even if they weren't related by blood, but he was old enough to know what he wanted. It was in Zephyr's hands.

Zephyr stared back, fisting his small hands in the fabric of Evan's torn jeans. He wanted his brother to make the decision for him, but he realized the choice was his and his alone. With a deep breath, he glanced from Evan to the headmaster. Then, very slightly so only Evan would see, he jerked his head from side to side. He didn't trust this man. He didn't like this place. He didn't want to know other kids. He just wanted it to be him and his big brother.

"No...I see, then," Evan murmured. He looked back up at Dumbledore. The man was far too confident. "Zephyr has chosen to stay with me, Dumbledore. I trust we will be allowed to leave as soon as possible. Meaning," he added sharply, as the old man opened his mouth, possibly to tell them they couldn't leave, "we want to leave now, and if you try to keep us here, we will take our freedom by force." He reached into one pocket, and pulled out a switchblade. When he flicked it open, the blade was revealed to be six inches long and serrated like a steak knife.

Running one finger along his blade, and very much aware of the startled looks he was getting from both Zephyr and Dumbledore, Evan went on smoothly, "It's your choice. But, should you attempt to stop us from leaving, it won't be pretty."

There was a quiet _shnick_ behind him, and he guessed that Zephyr had partly unsheathed his dagger. He couldn't quite stifle the burst of pride in his little brother. Good. He was beginning to trust his instincts. _The ball's in this old man's court now, though,_ he thought, frowning a bit as he looked back at Dumbledore. _What will he do?_ Brown eyes narrowed. _What's his next move?_

Zephyr reached up and tugged on the brown-haired man's hand. "I want to leave," he hissed. "I want to leave _now_!"

At once, Evan released the lock on his switchblade and snapped the knife's blade out of sight. "Alright, kiddo," he murmured. "We're leaving now. With or without your permission, we're going, and you know what will happen if you or anyone else here tries to stop us," he shot at Dumbledore before he grasped the wrists of the boy behind him and gently lifted Zephyr to his feet. The child followed his brother past Dumbledore. The aged man made a move as though he was going to hold him back, but Zephyr paused and shifted his hand so it was once more by his dagger, and Dumbledore froze.

"Listen well, old man," Zephyr hissed through tightly clenched teeth, narrowing his brilliant green eyes. "If you ever come near me or my brother again...this dagger will find a home between your ribs."

Not bothering to stay to watch Dumbledore's reaction, he stalked after his brother. Dumbledore was wrong. Wrong! His name was Zephyr. He was the younger brother of Evan. He would not be schooled here. He was going home with his brother, and then they would probably leave, and go somewhere else for a while.

"Zephyr," Evan said quietly after a few minutes, "you didn't need to say that."

The raven-haired boy looked away from those serious chocolate brown eyes. "Of course I did. I needed to make sure he got your point didn't I?"

Evan frowned. "Let me rephrase. You _shouldn't_ have said that."

Zephyr looked up, startled. "Why not? Isn't defending you and our home the same as self-defense?"

The older male ran a hand through his chestnut-brown hair with a soft sigh. "That's not what I meant. Making threats like that...Zephyr...you need to understand you shouldn't make them lightly, especially when I've already threatened someone on your behalf." He ruffled Zephyr's hair affectionately. "You're still just a kid. Let me defend you for now."

Zephyr looked down and mumbled, "He stole us and he's trying to force me into a place where I don't want to go..." _And it's more than likely he'll try again,_ he added silently.

"I know, kid. For now, though…you've got me with you." Evan stopped walking and laid his hand on Zephyr's shoulder. Confused green eyes met brown that had been darkened by seriousness. "I promise you," the older man went on, "he'll have to kill me if he wants to get to you."


	3. III

**III.**

Dumbledore gritted his teeth, glaring at the retreating backs of the two males. He'd done everything in his power short of forcing them to stay and using magic to stop them from leaving, and nothing had changed. Harry was still convinced that his name was Zephyr, and that this man was his older brother.

Maybe he'd gone about things the wrong way. But the Wizarding Community was desperate! They were scared as to where Harry had gone, and why he'd vanished. Fear had run rampant that Voldemort was not, in fact, gone at all, or that his followers were taking their revenge by killing the infant who'd destroyed their master. Dumbledore closed his eyes with a sigh.

Where was he to go from here? He needed the boy under his thumb, to carry out his plans, or all was lost.

OoOoO

"I should tell you," Evan murmured, wrapping an arm around Zephyr's shoulders and drawing him close. "The man I spoke to in that old moron's office said we'll be staying here. He didn't say how long it would be for, but I get the sense we won't be able to just get up and leave."

Zephyr quivered, not in fear, but from the force of the sheer anger that flooded him. "Old nutter," he growled. "I hate him."

"Someone as young as you doesn't know what true hatred is," Evan responded, so quietly that Zephyr wasn't sure if he was meant to hear. "No...True hatred comes from watching someone you trusted kill someone you care deeply for." His brown eyes darkened with some emotion the younger boy couldn't read.

"What?"

The older male shook his head, shaking his wild chestnut-brown hair back from his face in the same movement. "Nothing. This is our place," he added abruptly, stopping outside a picture of a rose twined around a jagged silver-bladed dagger with a serpent's head for a hilt; its acid green stem was bristling with blood red thorns, its petals a darker shade of red than the thorns. The serpent's mouth was open, proudly displaying its fangs and slender, forked tongue; its eyes were glittering, ruby red. The background was a mix of the colors silver, black, and dark blue weaving between each other but never mixing.

Evan clicked his fingers lightly to get Zephyr's attention back. "Listen to our password. Remember it, because if you forget it, you might be locked out until someone wanders by and happens to know it." He turned back to the portrait and said clearly, "Lapis lazuli."

To Zephyr's surprise, there was a soft click, and the picture swung inward. "I was told it's usually a kind of gem," Evan said, laying a hand on the small boy's shoulder and guiding him inside. "And I'll be told when the password changes, so I'll be sure to tell you, okay?"

Zephyr nodded, taking in the room. It was done in colors similar to the ones in the portrait background, with some lighter shades mixed in.

There was a three-person sofa and a few armchairs in front of a crackling fire that warmed the entire room. The armchairs were dark blue, and the sofa was sort of a sky blue, with darker blue cushions. The floor was covered in deep blue carpet. There was a coffee table in here too, which Evan pointed out with some distaste. Zephyr could understand some of what the brown-eyed male was feeling - excess furniture made for unneeded obstacles, and a slow escape if one was needed. When the two poked around a few other rooms, they found a kitchen with cabinets somehow already stocked full of food, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms, as well as a few closets. "I don't know why they think we need more than one closet," Evan had remarked scornfully as they discovered the second one. "It's not as if we ever carried more than the bare minimum we needed to survive."

Zephyr couldn't help but agree after they found the third closet, located in the smaller of the bathrooms. The things he and Evan had kept with them were barely enough to fill half of one of the bedroom closets. And they were mostly clothes.

_This is going to suck,_ he thought with a sigh, letting his fingertips dance over the hilt of his dagger.

A second later, he was tackled to the floor and held there by a heavy weight. He was completely still, frozen with surprise and winded, and it only took a few more moments for his dagger to be slid from its sheath and tossed out of his reach. Then he was flipped onto his stomach and one of his arms was tugged behind his back. It was then that he began to struggle to get loose, only to freeze as a knee was planted in the middle of his back, gently enough that he wasn't hurt but firmly enough to hold him down.

"First lesson in self defense - _always_ be on your guard," Evan said matter-of-factly, releasing him and stepping back quickly to avoid retaliation. "You can't be caught unawares, because it only takes a second for a knife to be slipped between your ribs. And then you're done." He snagged Zephyr's dagger and backed away, setting it on the coffee table. "Now...try to get me off my feet."

Zephyr scrambled up, but the moment he was standing again, Evan rushed him. He braced himself to be tackled again, and was therefore unprepared for the arm that Evan stuck out as he ran by. Caught by surprise - again - Zephyr was caught around the neck and knocked completely off-balance. A small tug from Evan knocked him to the floor again.

"Concentrate!" Evan growled, narrowing his eyes. "Look at my size, Zephyr! You can't hope to win against me in a contest of strength! You are smaller, and therefore faster! If you can avoid me, then do so!"

As soon as Zephyr regained his feet again, Evan made as if he was going to tackle the smaller boy, who stepped neatly to one side. Evan once more flung out an arm as he passed, this time letting two fingers brush gently against the side of Zephyr's neck, right where he knew a vein was resting below the thin layer of skin. He stopped moving just a bit beyond his little brother, and murmured, "Dead." He walked to Zephyr's side and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Zephyr, you'll have to move farther than that to escape something like that. If I'd been holding a knife, you would've bled out in less than a minute."

Zephyr let out an annoyed sigh, quickly getting frustrated. "Fine, fine. Try me again."

The two kept it up until Zephyr just flopped to the ground, completely out of breath. His muscles were burning from exertion, and there were a few places on his arms and legs that he was sure would be sporting lovely bruises before long. Evan hadn't shown him any favor, except when he was performing a move that would kill, if done at full-force or with a blade.

Evan stared down at him with his head tipped to one side, a small half-smile toying at one corner of his mouth. He was winded, too, but not nearly so much as Zephyr. "You did well, for a beginner."

Zephyr scowled up at him, but there was a good-humored gleam in those strikingly green eyes. "If only you'd gone a bit easier on me, I might have done better!"

The brown-haired man shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Someone isn't going to walk up to you and say, 'Watch out, now, I'm going to stab you!'. It doesn't work like that. You need to be ready to be able to take care of yourself." His expression went slightly vacant. "If you're not, it will be my fault. Because I won't always be around to help you, and you can't always just pick and choose your battles."

Zephyr sighed. _There he goes again, with that strange mood of his,_ he thought, prodding his brother gently to rouse him from his thoughts. _I wish I knew what he meant earlier...but I can't force it out of him. If he tells me, it will be when he wants to. Not before._

As he slowly and shakily got to his feet, he sighed again. He didn't like the idea that...that his brother would be gone some day, or that Evan would be hurt defending him. He didn't like it at all.

OoOoO

That night, as he listened to his brother's soft, even breathing, Evan found himself unable to rest. He let out a long, soft sigh, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the tension in his muscles. How long had it been since he'd gotten a good rest? Weeks? Months? Years? He didn't know. He remembered getting brief snatches of fitful sleep, usually three or four hours at most. Even when he was a kid, it was enough for him.

He sighed and shook his head bitterly. This whole setup stank of manipulation. The old man, Dumbledore...he was a master of it. He knew how to get the answers he wanted without asking any direct questions. And he knew how to get people to do what he wanted without actually telling them. He was a dangerous man.

Evan looked down at the small body curled up on the bed. He was sitting in the windowsill of Zephyr's bedroom. He'd done it so often - watching over Zephyr like this - that it was habitual now. Nice to have at least a few constants in this odd place...

He glanced out the window. It was cold, pressed against his shoulder and leg. It must be getting close to fall...close to September, if the nights were this chilled. And they must be pretty far north of the Equator for it to be so chilly on a July night. Useful information, but not enough to get an idea of where they were. After all, they'd been knocked out and taken here, so they hadn't seen any land formations or buildings that would be helpful.

No...Best to sit back and wait - and if they had to stay here for a while, then so be it.

Evan shifted his weight a bit, then turned his head to look at his little brother. He looked so soft, so vulnerable...he'd never be able to avoid this crazy old moron's manipulations without help.

_Wait. Stop. Rewind. Think that over._

Evan frowned. This man...this master of manipulations...treated everyone as if they were pawns. Pawns in a game. They could be sacrificed; they could be used as shields. Like...like a game of chess.

A grin spread across the brown-haired man's face. That was it. That was the way to get around Dumbledore. When someone toys with you...you toy with them right back.

_And that's exactly what I have to teach Zephyr to do._

Yes...his little brother would be quite busy. Busy learning self defense, and learning how to avoid becoming a pawn in the old man's game.

OoOoO

Zephyr was dreaming. But it wasn't an ordinary dream. It was flashing...flickering...changing every few moments. The first image was of a person - a man, by the look of it, though he couldn't see the face - clutching his shoulder. Blood was seeping between the fingers of his hand. The second was a pair of eyes gazing at him intently. He heard a voice whispering something too faint to really hear. Then the scene changed again - there was a panicky feeling in his chest and he seemed to be running, looking for something. Then the final one...and probably the most terrible. Evan's face was staring at something he couldn't see, full of fear. The brunet opened his mouth, maybe to yell something, and then...darkness.

The raven-haired boy sat bolt upright, green eyes wide and Evan's name on his lips. Suddenly he was being pushed back down gently but firmly. Evan's voice was murmuring, "Easy, Zephyr. Steady..." Not a shout. Not a scream. It was calm, a soothing murmur.

Slowly, Zephyr came back to earth. He was lying in bed, in an unfamiliar room, and Evan was holding him down with a concerned look in his chocolate-brown eyes. "Where's the bleeding man?" Zephyr whispered, his vision going slightly out of focus. "Who was talking, Evan? Was someone here? Why were you scared?"

Evan's expression slowly morphed to one of concern. "What bleeding man, Zephyr?" When Zephyr couldn't answer, he went on, "No one else was here. I would know - I would have seen them..." He drew in a deep breath and his expression smoothed into one of gentle comfort. Then he gently ruffled Zephyr's hair. "I think it's nothing to worry about, kid. You probably just had a very weird dream."

"I...yeah, okay. Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you or – "

Evan smiled faintly. "Don't freak out about it. Anyway...I guess now's a good time to inform you you're turning eleven in two weeks, according to the person I talked to. July thirty-first. Then you can decide if you want to stay here, or go with me."

Zephyr stared. He was turning eleven that soon? Evan still wanted him to decide? "I thought I said I wanted to – "

"I know what you said yesterday," Evan said softly, laying a finger on Zephyr's lips to silence him. "But I don't think you know what it would mean if you were to go with me. No, listen," he added, moving his whole hand to cover the young boy's mouth as Zephyr made to protest. This had to be said now, or he'd never find the right time. "_Listen_ to me, Zephyr. I don't know where we are. I don't know if we're in the same country as we were before we were brought here. I don't know if we're even on the same _continent_. We could be anywhere in the world. I'm asking you if you really want to give up the safety of this place to go wandering around in an unfamiliar landscape."

He removed his hand and stood from where he'd been sitting on Zephyr's bed. "You don't have to answer now. Think about it for a while first. I don't want to take the chance that if you change your mind, we can't get back here."

Zephyr lunged forward, wrapping his small fingers around Evan's wrist. "Then don't leave! Don't leave me here alone, Evan!" He could feel his eyes filling with tears as his fingers tightened, then released their grip. He was shaking; frightened that his brother might rather go wandering in unfamiliar places than stay here to make sure he was safe.

Then he was warm, incredibly warm. Even the blankets hadn't been this warm last night. With a start, he realized that Evan was holding him tightly, as though he was a father comforting his son. The brown-haired man's chin was resting on Zephyr's head, one hand on the boy's upper back, the other arm wrapped snugly around his midsection. Hesitantly, Zephyr moved his head to rest on Evan's chest, taking comfort from the embrace.

"I won't," Evan breathed, so softly Zephyr almost didn't hear. "I won't leave, not unless you want me to. I didn't mean to upset you."

It was nice, Zephyr decided, to be held like this. Evan was warm, and he didn't want to move. But then Evan was pulling away, offering the raven-haired child a hand and a crooked smile. "Come on, then. I've got a lot to teach you, and you've got a lot to learn."

Zephyr sighed. "More self-defense?" But he took his older brother's hand anyway.

"Well, yes," Evan responded, tugging him toward the kitchen. "But the somewhat more pressing issue is teaching you how to avoid that puppet master's manipulations. So you'll be learning how to play chess." He tossed a grin back at Zephyr. "I have faith that you'll learn it easily."

"But - "

"No buts," Evan interrupted. "First we eat, then we poke around some more and see if we can't find a chessboard. If we can't, well...we digest, then we get on with your defense lessons."

Zephyr sighed and resigned himself to what was sure to be a very long, tiring day.


	4. IV

**IV.**

Evan let out a grunt as Zephyr's foot connected with the forearm he'd only just lifted in time to block the kick. He quickly grasped Zephyr's ankle and jerked it, trying to unbalance the smaller boy. When Zephyr staggered, fighting to regain his balance while only standing on one leg, Evan grinned and gave him a shove. He chuckled at the startled shout and heavy thump that followed and extended a hand to help his brother up. "Again," he said. "Be faster."

Zephyr growled softly and gripped Evan's hand, quickly regaining his feet and dropping into a defensive crouch. When they'd been unable to find a chess board, Evan had pushed the coffee table out of the middle of the floor and taken up a fighting stance. They'd been going at it for hours now, and Zephyr was sure he'd be sporting a few new bruises tomorrow. Not just from Evan's blows; he'd fallen quite a few times. He couldn't help it - Evan had the advantage of size, and he used it well.

Despite that, Zephyr was determined to get the better of his brother, and a quick learner. He had the basics just about down, something that both he and Evan were proud of. When Evan pointed out where he made his mistakes and corrected them, he committed it to memory. His reflexes proved to be sharp when Evan tossed or threw various objects at him – which happened often, as an attempt to throw Zephyr off-guard.

Evan had slowly loosened his muscles as Zephyr paused, as if he wasn't expecting the little boy to launch an attack anytime soon. But the look in those chocolate brown eyes was calculating, and Zephyr had learned that no matter how calm he appeared, Evan was studying his body language carefully. Even the smallest twitch of a muscle would tell the experienced fighter which way he was going to try to strike from – and then Evan would be there before Zephyr could land a hit.

Zephyr couldn't help the small glow of admiration at his brother's calm skill. Evan was a smart fighter, and probably just as clever when it came to other things - like reading people. He had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself from grinning. He needed to focus.

What had Evan said? _The trick is to use your smaller size and speed to your advantage against a bigger opponent. They might be stronger or better at fighting, but if you're faster than them and you don't get caught, you might be able to run away._

"Be fast". But no matter how fast he tried to be, Evan somehow seemed to be just a bit faster. The advantage of being alone for so many years, Zephyr guessed. He was drawn from his thoughts by Evan's amused-sounding voice asking, "Have you frozen like that, brat?"

With a growl, Zephyr stood, twisted, turned his hips over, and swung his foot at Evan's side as fast as he was able.

Only to feel a slightly painful, sharp jolt as Evan brought up his arm again, so quickly it was almost a blur, and blocked his kick yet again. Zephyr gasped as the impact sent shockwaves up his leg, and his hesitation made him lose his balance and fall again.

Evan blinked, slightly surprised. He barely noticed the smile that was slowly spreading across his face at his brother's dazed expression. Lifting one hand to his mouth, he coughed lightly to hide the laughter that was building in his chest, but he couldn't quite get rid of the small half-smirk.

"How the heck are you so fast, Evan?" the black-haired child asked, narrowing his green eyes.

Evan couldn't help his wide grin. "Very good reflexes. It's the gift of the gods, Zephyr. You'll get there one day." He ruffled the unruly raven-black hair fondly and started for the kitchen. "How about we take a break and get something to eat, kid?"

Zephyr perked up considerably at that and scrambled to his feet. Food sounded _awesome._

OoOoO

A few minutes later, Evan settled at the table with a still-steaming cup of tea. It was loaded with cream and sugar, just the way he liked it. He took a sip, ignoring the heat, and couldn't stop his tiny sigh of appreciation. He wrapped his hands around the mug, trying to warm them, and felt the same surprise that he'd felt when he'd first discovered the everyday cups return. Dumbledore was so eccentric he'd almost thought he'd be drinking out of a bowl.

He took another sip, relishing the warmth. It burned down his throat and heated his stomach even long after he'd swallowed.

"Evan?"

He hummed to show he was listening without pausing from his drinking. Oh, he needed this...some familiarity in this upside-down world. He could hear Zephyr's fingers tapping uncertainly, and lowered his mug reluctantly to give his brother a questioning look.

"Um...do...do you...ever sing?"

Well, that was unexpected. Evan set down his tea with a light _thunk _and stared. It seemed to make Zephyr uncomfortable - the child tapped his fingers faster and wouldn't make eye contact. He seemed to know he'd taken Evan by complete surprise.

The chestnut-haired man felt his jaw muscles working as he tried to form a response. Yes, once upon a time, he'd enjoyed singing. But that was years ago. "...When I was younger, I did," he murmured, looking down at the wooden table and tracing patterns in the wood with his eyes without really seeing them. Oh, yes, he'd loved singing. But he'd learned, and quite quickly, that drawing attention was the worst thing you could do when you were on the streets alone. His left shoulder seemed to burn at the memory.

"...Why don't you sing now?" The question was just as hesitant as the first.

Evan winced, bringing one hand up to thread his fingers through his hair. His answer came out low, unsteady, and harsher than he'd intended. "It was a mistake I couldn't afford to make on the streets. Besides, there wasn't time for hobbies or relaxing. Survival comes first." He stood, his chair moving back swiftly, with a harsh scarping noise. "I'll be in my bedroom if you need me, Zephyr." So saying, he left the kitchen.

OoOoO

Zephyr looked down at the potato chips on his plate, biting his lip. He hadn't meant to pry...he was just curious. But clearly, Evan's past on the streets was a sore subject even now. He glanced at Evan's half-finished mug of tea, sighed, and stood up. He wrapped his small fingers around the still-warm handle and lifted it. Then he left the kitchen, taking care not to spill Evan's drink, and followed the older male to his room.

Once outside the locked door, he knocked gently twice and turned the knob. "Evan?" he asked softly, opening the door and stepping into the room, looking around.

The door to the small bathroom opened, and Evan stepped out. Zephyr felt his eyes widen in surprise. The older male had taken off his shirt, exposing a well-muscled stomach, chest and shoulders. But that wasn't what drew Zephyr's attention.

Evan's chest, biceps, and stomach were covered in scars. There were small ones, probably caused by introductions to asphalt and concrete…and bigger, narrow ones, long white lines that could only have been the result of fights. But even more shocking was the fact that across his chest, carved into his flesh with painful, curving letters, was the word _sinner._

"What did you come in here for?" Evan asked quietly, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that covered the ugliest of his scars. Though he registered the question, Zephyr's throat felt tight with horror. He couldn't speak, couldn't remember _why _he'd come here. For a few minutes he could only stare mutely at his brother, until Evan clicked his tongue softly and moved to put on one of the few shirts he owned.

Zephyr shook his head violently, suddenly snapping out of his sickened daze. _Calm, calm, _he tried to counsel himself, taking a deep breath. The visual of those scars was still floating in the front of his mind. "I-I brought your drink," he murmured. But it seemed a feeble response after what he'd seen.

Evan made a soft noise that wasn't quite a sigh or a laugh – a short huff, full of a thousand undecipherable thoughts and memories. "Appreciate it," he muttered, turning to face Zephyr again and taking the mug from him. He downed its contents in three gulps, handed the cup back, and began to pull on the long-sleeved white cotton shirt he'd taken from the closet. Though the scars were hidden from view, they were still there, and Zephyr found himself staring at Evan once more.

Evan sighed and said, "Stop thinking about it, Zephyr, because the event that gave me these scars is in the past. There's nothing to be done about it now."

"I _can't_ stop thinking about it!" Zephyr blurted. "Whoever did that is sick! Who could _do_ such a thing?!" He was aware of the growing hysteria in his voice, but he did nothing to suppress it. Truly, he was at his breaking point. First Dumbledore kidnapped them both, then he brought them here to a place that was both unfamiliar and forbidding, and then, Zephyr found out his brother's body was scarred forever by some maniac who he _really_ wished he could sink his blade into right this second and -

He was brought back to himself by Evan grabbing his shoulder roughly. Not enough to hurt, but enough that he had Zephyr's complete attention.

There was a look in those chocolate-colored eyes that made chills go up Zephyr's spine. It was a haunted, deadened, almost defeated look, but there was still a spark of strength in them as well. _They say the eyes are the windows to the soul,_ Zephyr thought, remembering one of Evan's favorite sayings. Well, if he was seeing Evan's soul, then whatever had scarred him had done much more damage than just physical. The memories, Zephyr realized, would never have left the older male. They probably replayed...over and over in his mind, every day.

"He wasn't in his right mind, Zephyr," Evan murmured. "As I've told you, there's a difference between wanting to hurt someone, and needing to, to save yourself." His grip tightened a moment, before he moved his hand to gently cup Zephyr's chin so the black-haired child couldn't look away. "The man who scarred me _wanted_ to hurt me. He was a sadist of the worst kind." His thumb gently brushed Zephyr's cheek, and Zephyr realized that at some point he'd started crying. Evan's voice had lowered to a whisper by the time he said, "I killed him to save my own life. I'm not proud of it...but it was me or him."

Zephyr stared at his brother – the man he'd always looked up to – and believed him. The bleak look in those eyes was enough to confirm what was being said.

Evan had the blood of another human on his hands.

OoOoO

"The bond between them is remarkably strong," a raspy, high-pitched, almost weak-sounding voice remarked. A soft hiss in the voice stressed the "s" in his words, as if the speaker had spent too much time around snakes in his life.

"Yes," a lower, much stronger voice responded. "And the older...he could prove to be a useful ally."

"Correct." The conversation was clearly carried by two different people...and yet the young, tall man was the only one in the room. "But then...they both could. The younger has no idea...who he _really_ is. And...clearly...they both distrust Dumbledore."

"All the more to our advantage, Master."

"Of course….This could prove to be an…_interesting_ year at Hogwarts, wouldn't you agree?"

"But of course. After all...whoever thought something like _this_ would happen?"

The first speaker let out a cold laugh. "Not even _I_ thought things would turn out this way. Dumbledore has made his biggest mistake yet. How..._amusing_ it is to watch him struggle...oh, yes...this will be fun."

OoOoO

They'd been silent for half an hour now. It was killing Zephyr. The quiet was overwhelming, though he knew that Evan would speak when he wanted to, and not a moment sooner. At some point, they'd shifted so that Zephyr's back was pressed against his older brother's chest and Evan's arms were wrapped loosely around his midsection. Zephyr could feel his brother's quiet, even breaths against his neck, and he was impatient to break the long pause.

Finally, five minutes later, he could take it no longer. "Evan?" he whispered.

"Mm..." Zephyr took that to mean that Evan was listening.

"...Will you sing to me?" he asked softly, hesitantly.

Evan sighed. "You're not going to give it up until I do," he murmured, sounding as if Zephyr had stopped him from dozing off. He cleared his throat, and began to sing softly, almost uncertainly, in a voice that cracked a little from disuse:

_"I have often dreamed of a far-off place, where a great, warm welcome will be waiting for me. Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face, and a voice keeps saying, 'This is where I'm meant to be'..."_ He took a swift breath and continued, more confidently,_"I will find my way; I can go the distance. I'll be there, someday, if I can be strong. I know every mile, will be worth my while. I would go most anywhere, to feel like I...belong."_

The silence had returned, but this time Zephyr didn't feel the need to break it. Evan's singing voice was...nothing like his speaking voice. It was a clear, strong tenor, unlike like the low, sometimes hesitant way Evan usually spoke.

"You have a nice singing voice," Zephyr whispered after a while.

Evan didn't reply, but the arms around Zephyr's waist tightened affectionately, and the boy could've sworn that had he turned around just then, Evan would've been smiling.

OoOoO

After he put the child to sleep, Evan sat in Zephyr's window again that night, staring out into the darkness. Almost without realizing he was doing it, he opened his mouth and sang softly, _"I am on my way; I can go the distance. I don't care how far - somehow I'll be strong. I know every mile, will be worth my while. I would go most anywhere to find where I belong."_

Yes...he definitely would. He'd be strong. He'd stay...for Zephyr. Somehow, he would find the tolerance to endure Dumbledore's manipulations.

And eventually...he would put the horrors of watching his beloved Amanda fall to the blade of the one he would have died for behind him.

He hugged his knees to his chest, the familiar hollow feeling opening up like a dark void where his heart should be. He missed her desperately, even now. He swallowed a pained moan, not wanting to wake his brother. Oh, Amanda...he could heal from the pain...but he could never get rid of the memories...

XxXxX

_Song used – "Go The Distance" from Disney's Hercules_


End file.
